The low hum of the black, unmarked car filled the silence as Pewter City came into view. The trees had thinned, the dusty road winding into a craggy path lined with uneven stone fences and weather-worn signs pointing to a less-than-popular gym nestled in the northwestern cliffs. Silver sat quietly in the back seat, arms folded, his crimson eyes reflecting the scenery outside.
It wasn't the city that held his attention. It was the boy inside it.
Brock should be around seven years old.
The thought wasn't random.
His mind wandered deeper, peeling back the numbers until it reached something more personal. Of all the characters he'd admired growing up, Brock had always stood out...
Not for his power, but for his strength. The real kind. The unglamorous kind.
He was truly a man full of masculinity.
Ignoring all the comedy from the show, he is what I aspired to be growing up. Someone who cared for their family and was shown the same love in return. A person who could endure in the toughest of times.
When Brock was just ten, both his parents had left him, abandoned him, really with the full responsibility of raising nearly a dozen siblings. And still, he did it. Leaving his future dreams, no travelling, no help.
Just a kitchen, a beat-up apron, and relentless resolve.
That wasn't strength you trained for. That was strength born from necessity.
'Hard times create strong men. Strong men create good times. Good times create weak men. And weak men create hard times.'
Even now, Silver felt something close to reverence. Maybe it was because he saw echoes of himself in Brock's story. Maybe it was the respect of one future Gym heir to another. Or maybe… it was guilt.
He shoved the feeling aside. Emotions had their place, but not before a battle.
The car turned onto a slope, climbing toward the Pewter Gym's main entrance. Unlike the grandiose stadium of his own Viridian Gym, the Pewter Gym sat awkwardly out of place in the middle of a suburban area, with houses around it. It looked more like a bunker than a Gym.
Quiet. Plain. Almost forgotten.
This place clearly wasn't popular.
The car rolled to a stop. No crowd. No challengers. Just a wide concrete courtyard and a pair of rusted gym doors.
He stepped out, the cool air brushing his jacket as the car pulled away without a word.
Inside, the gym was equally underwhelming. A towering square boulder sat in the middle of the main arena, with smaller boulders surrounding it. It was more pathetic than in the anime somehow which is saying something.
The walls were unpolished stone. The lighting dims. The reception desk wasn't a desk at all, just a folding table set up with a register log, a battered PC monitor, and a cracked Poké Ball healing tray.
Behind it sat a woman. Mid-thirties, kind eyes, tired posture… and pregnant. Visibly. She looked up with some surprise as Silver approached.
"Oh! Hello there," she said, her voice warm and cheery. "Are you here for a Gym challenge?"
Silver gave a curt nod, his eyes flicking down to her rounded stomach, registering the detail without staring.
"Yes. My name is Silver," he said calmly. "I know this is a bit short notice, but I'd like to register for a battle."
There was a pause. Silver continued, measured and respectful. "My father is Giovanni. I'm starting my League journey now, and I was hoping to meet the Gym heir. Your son after the battle, if that's acceptable."
He didn't drop the name arrogantly. It wasn't a threat or a boast. It was just context to be able to talk on some footing. A gentle pressure for cooperation.
The woman blinked, then smiled politely.
"Oh, well… that's certainly a big name. You're more than welcome, Silver. I'm Lola, Brock's mother. He's watching the match from upstairs. You can meet him after the battle. For now, my husband Flint will be your opponent."
"Understood."
He followed her gaze toward the rear doors of the arena, where the battle platform waited beyond. A man's shadow loomed there. Tall, scruffy, disinterested.
Silver narrowed his eyes. That must be Flint.
So that's him. The man who left his son to raise a family while continuing to pump out more kids like he was playing a numbers game. Silver didn't flinch, but his expression hardened. The respect he had for Brock did not extend to his father.
This battle won't take long.
He walked forward without another word.
The stone doors creaked open, revealing the battlefield in its entirety which was flat terrain, sand-covered tile, and that same oversized boulder dominating the middle like a stage piece too heavy to move. The gym lights buzzed overhead, casting sharp shadows that made the room feel even emptier.
Flint stood across the field, arms crossed, an expression of reluctant obligation etched into his face. His posture was loose, but not lazy. His hair was messily tucked under a bandana, and stubble outlined a face that hadn't cared for appearances in years.
Silver could already feel the contempt bubbling under the surface. He knew men like Flint. People who chased glory fell short and blamed everything but themselves.
'I personally wouldn't have let that idiot back into my life... But he did. Maybe that's what separates a boy like me from a man like Brock.' Silver thought in silent contemplation.
"Alright," Flint called across the field, voice echoing. "Standard rules. Two-on-two. You win, you get the Boulder Badge. You ready, kid?"
"I'm ready."
Silver unclipped a Poké Ball from his belt and tossed it forward. "Totodile. Let's start."
The blue crocodilian Pokémon emerged with a spirited growl, bouncing on its feet. Its scales gleamed faintly in the gym's dim light. Despite being relatively untrained, Totodile's eyes sparkled with raw aggression and confidence.
Flint gave a quiet grunt of approval, then released his first Pokémon which was a Geodude. Standard fare. Probably held back intentionally for new challengers.
"Geodude, use Rollout!"
The spherical rock type curled and launched itself forward with force, kicking up a trail of dust. Totodile dodged to the left instinctively, skidding on the sand.
"Hydro Pump. Now."
Silver's voice was calm. Precise.
Totodile inhaled and released an unstable, forceful blast of water from its mouth. The beam was strong but wild, and Geodude barely managed to deflect part of it with a sudden turn mid-roll. It was hit squarely and sent crashing into the rock wall behind, but it wasn't knocked out.
Not yet.
"Again!"
This time, Totodile hesitated just a fraction of a second. It fired again, the pressure making its tiny body recoil backward. The stream hit Geodude for a second time which was enough to knock it out. Unfortunately, Totodile was already panting, muscles tense.
It hadn't trained yet.
But this victory already had its trainer smiling proudly. The Totodile seeing its trainer's happy appearance puffed its chest out in pride. But because of its lack of energy fell on its own back which got a stifling laugh from the spectator above.
Silver looking up saw a child Brock, using his hand to hold his laughter.
Flint returned Geodude with a mutter, then tossed out his second choice which was a more dangerous opponent.
"Rhyhorn."
A heavy thud echoed across the battlefield as the rhinoceros-like Pokémon emerged, pawing at the ground.
Silver narrowed his eyes. That wasn't a Pokémon most rookie trainers could handle, but it still wasn't Flint's best.
Gym checks were a cannonical thing in the anime and if someone like Flint could pass, then he wasn't that incompetent. Just not interested in being a gym leader at all and wanted to explore the world.
Too bad his pull-out game was weak.
Rhyhorn charged forward.
"Hydro Pump!"
Totodile tried again but this time, the beam sputtered out in a fractured stream. Totodile was thrown backward, tumbling in a heap. It could barely hold itself up.
Silver didn't wait for the little guy to faint. He returned Totodile calmly satisfied with the win.
"I needed you to lose," he whispered under his breath, voice low enough that only he could hear. "So you can grind."
Then, he reached for his next High Tech Poke Ball.
"Beedrill. It's your turn."
A bit overkill.
The monster incarnate burst out of its capsule with a screech. Unlike Totodile, Beedrill didn't bounce or posture. It hovered silently, twin drills glowing faintly as it sized up its opponent. Its sheer size makes Flint widen his eyes in sheer confusion.
"What's wrong with that fucking Beedrill."
Rhyhorn charged.
"[Rock Blast]."
Silver didn't flinch.
"[Brick Break]."
Beedrill zipped forward at a brutal angle. It didn't dodge the hurling rocks but split it. The twin drills crossed like blades, slicing across Rhyhorn's rocky hide in a flash of movement. A shockwave hit the floor as the impact sent Rhyhorn crashing sideways into the boulder at centre stage.
It was a message of sheer power.
Silence.
Flint returned the Pokémon slowly, eyes narrowing just a little more seriously now. Silver stood quietly, his posture straight, not even breathing heavily. Beedrill hovered beside him like a disciplined soldier waiting for further instructions.
"That's the end of the match," Flint said stiffly. "You win."
Silver stepped forward. Flint pulled the badge from a pouch and handed it over with a nod curt, emotionless.
"Good battle," Flint said.
Silver gave a short nod of formality. Then turned his back without another word. There was no reason to be rude.
High above, in the shadows of the second level, a boy with spiked brown hair watched with quiet fascination. Eyes sharp. Posture straight. Curious.
Silver looked up and saw him too.
Brock.
The real reason he was here.
Silver ascended the old stone steps at the side of the gym, leading up to the dimly lit observation platform. The metal railing was worn and half-rusted in places, and the seats were dusty.
"Hello!," Silver happily said, stopping a few feet away.
The boy a bit startled, shyly looks up. "H-Hi."
There was a long pause.
"I've read about you," Brock finally said. "Silver. From Viridian. The son of Giovanni."
Silver gave a light shrug. "The one and only."
Brock didn't answer right away. Instead, he looked back down at the battlefield, watching as a janitor slowly began to sweep up the dust and rubble from the earlier fight.
"I want to be strong like you!" Brock finally said, a conviction in his words. "I've been reading breeding manuals, regulation books, gym inspection protocols. I'm only seven, but... my parents started training me last year. Said I'd need to be ready by the time I'm ten."
His voice gradually quieted down as some of his stress was starting to show.
That answer silenced Silver for a moment.
Abandoned at ten, left to raise his brothers and sisters alone was brutal. But seeing it unfold in real-time slowly… It was different.
Raw.
"Why do you want to be like me? Why not your father?" A question that made the kid tense up voluntarily.
"I want to be a great older brother for my siblings." He then says with a goofy smile, completely deflecting the question. But in some cases, it could be seen in an answer itself.
Silver exhaled through his nose, almost a sigh. He stepped closer abruptly and held out a slip of paper. A handwritten number.
"This is my personal line, I know this is random but we should chat," he said. "Don't tell your parents..."
Brock looked at the number, brow furrowing. Looking back up, the crimson-haired kid had a finger on his mouth with the universal quiet sign.
"If you ever need help," Silver continued, "And I mean real help. I will answer and be there."
Brock didn't answer immediately. He just held the paper, staring at it. His fingers curled around the edge.
Finally, he asked, "Why?"
Silver met his eyes. "Us gym boys need to stick together."
Brock tucked the number into his vest.
"Okay, it was nice meeting you. I appreciate this help." He says respectfully, giving a short bow.
...
The car door shut with a soft thud as Silver settled into the back seat. The streets of Pewter faded behind the tinted windows, the gym shrinking into the background as the car hummed to life and began its smooth journey eastward.
It was an awkward first meeting.
His introduction to the kid was alright at best but one goal was achieved.
Brock had a way to contact him. A small seed that will sprout in the future.
Silver sat in silence for a moment, glancing once at the Boulder Badge in his hand. A real-life gym badge.
Then, he tapped the encrypted device tucked into his coat and dialled Tyson.
The line clicked.
"Sir?" Tyson's voice came through, clear and alert.
"Create a secure folder under my name," Silver instructed. "Label it 'Project Anchor." Tag its long-term plan."
"Understood. Description?"
"Send two disposable grunts. Their task is to steal the Pokemon of Flint's son in broad daylight. Acting as desperate people his age who need the money to survive." Silver says, the car's atmosphere growing heavy.
'I'm a bastard for this,'
"…Understood. When will this occur."
"Three years or when Brock Harrison becomes a gym leader."
Tyson hesitated again. "You plan to recruit him, Commander?"
The silence answered the question itself.
He closed his eyes briefly and leaned back, letting the road noise fill the cabin.
Cerulean was next.
The Water Gym.